


The Travails of the U. S. S. Surprise

by MindYourMind



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Crack, Crossover, F/F, F/M, M/M, Rated M for Swearing, Star Trek AU, Yuri Plisetsky Swears A Lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 18:44:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15467637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindYourMind/pseuds/MindYourMind
Summary: Captain Yuuri Katsuki is infamy made flesh. According to Starfleet? He masks ruthless cunning with a killer poker face and seductive grace. According to First Officer Viktor and Dr. Yuri Plisetsky? He's just a obstinate fool.Theirobstinate fool. CRACK.





	The Travails of the U. S. S. Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> I've been struggling with my Hunger Games AU fic, Revenge Served Cold. So I started this dumb crack fic to cope. In this story, EVERYBODY LIVES. Even the redshirts. Viktor is spelled with a "k" this once because he's Vulcan. Also Yuuri is draped in gold (heh) and Victuuri is the main ship, because Viktor felt neglected by my constant Yuuri/Yuri shipping. ^_^
> 
> I hereby dedicate this fic to RhodaNight and dunderklumpen. Thanks for enabling me!
> 
> Mood Music:  
> The Greatest - Sia
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Yuri!!! on Ice or Star Trek. Just my anxiety.
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome.

_Captain's Log. Stardate 1491.9. Following an outbreak of infectious disease on Persepos X, Starfleet has sent the U.S.S._ Surprise _to assist the quarantined planet. We are now four standard Earth days and three standard Earth nights from Persepos X. I trust the native physicians will prevent the disease from spreading too quickly. I also trust there will be no need for military protection._

_In preparation for all scenarios, I have ordered all medical personnel aboard to prepare cultures for observation, antibiotics for known viruses, and various anesthetics. I have confidence that Chief Medical Officer Yuri Plisetsky and his staff has the knowledge and expertise to supplement the skills of the physicians on Persepos X. In addition, the_ Surprise _is well-equipped to repel any acts of outside aggression. Katsuki out._

Yuuri jabbed the button to ending his recording, worrying his bottom lip between his front teeth. Nothing reinforced his impostor syndrome like recording hopes he didn't feel. Leading by example was such a chore. 

Uncertain missions made his anxiety spike. Missions more complex than a simple negotiation made his intuition bleed red in warning. Missions where one rookie mistake could wipe out everyone on the ship made him want to drink enough Romulan brandy to black out for a week. 

Missions combining all three made him consider quitting Starfleet. Five years, he had steeped in his own fears at the helm of the _Surprise_. Many captains took promotions or other positions once they high-fived their five-year mark. Then the cycle awarded their antsy subordinates a shot at boss headaches, stress dreams, and suspicions of impending doom. Maybe he would move on, too.

Heaving a long, weary breath, Yuuri rose from his chair and half-paced, half-waltzed about his quarters. He sketched out various possibilities, and how to address them, in his mind. There was no way to plan out a conversation in detail. Especially when dealing with cultures vastly different from your own, at the mercy of translation devices. 

But just as Yuuri could decide what rhythm to dance, he could decide what mood to adopt. Once Yuuri had set a mood for whatever space he occupied, he could bumble through everything without looking like the fool he felt he was.

It worked out in beating the Kobiyashi Maru simulation, after all.

All Yuuri's imagined scenarios ended with the entire population of Persepos X dying and turning into space zombies. They were stupid simulations. But at least his mood would be set, and he wouldn't be floored if zombies figured into the equation. Just terrified and resigned.

After checking in with Lieutenant Babicheva on the bridge for status reports, he set his personal food simulator to brew enough green tea for a pack of captains. He had to collect an impressive amount of anecdotes about Persepos X before turning in for the evening.

He fell asleep and startled awake twice, before his first officer and chief medical officer sauntered through his door. Yuuri didn't even have to look up to know: they were here to steal his extra chairs, his 3D-chess set, and his solitude.

He was damned if he knew why they were always making his quarters their home. They had a new ridiculous excuse each time. Today's special:

“Katsudon! Always fun to watch dry history bury you when we're days from land,” said Dr. Yuri Plisetsky. He swatted his commanding officer's shoulder the same way a cat swats at the family dog.

Yuuri ignored him. He didn't know how much work it took this historian to make a three hundred year civil war fought over spices, secret children, and high fashion brand rights sound boring. But it was clearly more work than necessary.

He felt another presence join Plisetsky at his side.

“Captain.” The voice was deep, melodious, and a trifle concerned.

Yuuri ignored Viktor. With a pang of guilt, he remembered that he'd been ignoring his first officer for nearly twelve hours straight. Yuuri would make up for it later. Maybe lose to him in a long, involved 3D strip-chess tournament, or something.

Ah! Yuuri had an idea for what to do if a fashion-conscious troop of zombies besieged his landing party when they deployed to the planet's surface...

A weight settling across his thighs jolted him from his thoughts. He tore his eyes off the computer screen. Suddenly his vision was swimming in the blue of Viktor's eyes, just inches from his face.

Viktor was never good at helping him concentrate.

Viktor shifted in his lap, face deceptively stoic as ever, and raised his hand to Yuuri's forehead. “Captain, I think you may be developing a fever,” he said. He raised a critical eyebrow, as if daring Yuuri to contradict him.

Yuuri thought he was probably turning red as a tomato because his first officer kept mistaking his lap for his assigned post, but he didn't vocalize it. “Mr. Viktor, please. You can't make a bad habit of this. What if you forget yourself and take my chair on the bridge—while I'm in in it—in front of the rest of the crew?”

Viktor's solemn expression shattered into a warm, heart-shaped smile. He winked and unfolded his long legs—very long legs—and smoothly rose to stand on his own two feet again. His fingers lingered on the decorative gold braid at Yuuri's throat.

“Yurio,” he heard Viktor's voice coo from somewhere near the ceiling, “I don't quite trust my ears at the moment. Did he just scold me for being _bad_?”

“Your damn pointy ears are always working just fine,” Yuri griped. “You're just an airhead who fucking forgets 90% of what he hears.”

“Language, Dr. Plisetsky,” said Viktor, his face resuming its usual stoicism, save for a wicked half-smile tugging at his lips. Yuuri found himself rather distracted. He knew he saw that half-smile before, but when?

Yuri snorted into a cup of green tea. “I'm not the one who acts up just to get punished.”

Just when had Yuri snatched away his tea?!

“Don't you?” Both of Viktor's eyebrows rose in intrigue. He settled himself in a chair—ha! Yuuri was right, his extra chairs were not safe anymore. “You're _always_ acting up, I have a hard time believing you don't have an ulterior motive . . .”

Yuuri had no idea where this conversation was going, but he knew his research was going nowhere. He stared longingly at his computer screen. Maybe if he stared hard enough, it would offer suggestions on how to banish your closest friends. Preferably for just four days, but permanently wouldn't hurt, either.

“Gentlemen, if you don't mind, you can take your argument elsewhere while I—”

“But Katsudon, we can't take your 3-D chess board elsewhere,” Yuri's voice floated over to him.

Yuuri blinked slowly. He looked away from his computer, surprised to see Viktor and Yuri both seated by his chess board, each with a cup of tea in one hand and a chess piece in the other. There was no physical way they had gotten halfway through the game that quickly. With his luck, they were probably halfway through drinking his tea, too.

Yuuri was quite tired of having a crew constantly denying the laws of physics. It was so draining to keep track of the lot of them.

A soft _swish_ announced that his door was opening. Yuuri looked up and smiled at the sight of a blue uniform and Phichit's cheery face.

“Excuse the interruption, Captain. I have a couple items in need of your attention?” Phichit prompted. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief. This was the look Phichit wore whenever he had to bail Yuuri out of social engagements back at the Academy.

“Right _now_?” Yuri asked dubiously.

Viktor raised both of his eyebrows, also skeptical.

“It's alright, I'd rather _not_ leave anything until last minute,” said Yuuri, deftly maneuvering past his first officer and chief medical officer. They rose to flank him, but he motioned them to stay seated. “Don't worry about accompanying me—after all, you can't move your game, and I wouldn't dream of making you abandon your never-ending competition with each other. I'll be back.”

Two pairs of slightly crestfallen eyes watched the sliding door close behind him. Yuuri couldn't help glancing back over his shoulder as he followed after Phichit. The sight was far too satisfying.

He turned to his longtime friend. “Thank you, Phichit. You're a godsend.”

Phichit slung an arm round his shoulder and tapped their temples together. “Anytime, hon. I can smell pining a thousand miles away, remember? It's a gift, or so I choose to view it. To be fair, though, I actually _do_ have a concern.”

Phichit let go of him and led him to a room on another deck. Yuuri was amused to see a sheet of paper taped above the door's mantle, reading as follows:

TOP SECRET—PRETEND YOU DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING

When Yuuri and Phichit entered the room, Guang-Hong Ji and Christophe Giacometti turned their way with welcoming smiles. 

“Good morning, er, evening, I guess, _mon Capitan_ ,” said Chris, sidling up to Yuuri and grinning at their matching uniforms. They had matched for four years straight, but Chris always acted like he was seeing Yuuri in gold like his own for the first time.

Come to think of it, Viktor did, too. Strange.

Guang-Hong was practically jumping up and down in his excitement. Yuuri wished he had half of his energy. “Guess what? We've almost perfected a prototype to help isolate infected individuals.” Guang-Hong held up a modified zip-seal space suit. Yuuri was a little taken aback at how the black and silver design looked more like fetishwear than practical space suit. He couldn't tell if that was Phichit's fault, or Chris's doing. Perhaps both? 

“We've taken the original suits made to protect us when we go down to investigate,” Guang-Hong was saying, “and adapted them to be more secure, to carry more breathable oxygen, and also carry food inside the suit itself, so it doesn't become contaminated.”

Yuuri nodded. “Impressive. I don't anticipate being besieged in an oxygen-free tank full of pathogen-rich corpses for a week—but you never know. This is a unique situation. Good work, gentlemen.”

Guang-Hong blushed almost as red as his uniform, though Yuuri couldn't tell if he was happy at the praise, or embarrassed. “Well, if we were aboard any other ship, I wouldn't bother. But this ship always attracts chaotic energy, so best to think creatively. We do need your permission to up our clearance access, though, some of the materials we need are restricted.”

Nevermind, that was definitely embarrassment on Guang-Hong's face. “I appreciate you saying our ship is cursed in such a . . . diplomatic fashion,” said Yuuri. 

If it weren't strictly true that their ship was accursed with a penchant for disaster, he would have resented the words. Even so, Guang-Hong was one of the only people who could say something like that so kindly. No doubt Phichit and Chris asked him to speak on their behalf. “We only have four days until we need to deploy to Persepos X's surface, so I will leave you to fine tune your work. We will need at least six suits for the landing party. Whatever materials you need, permission granted. If you need to pull in other people to work with you, do so.”

The three other men bowed and thanked him.

Yuuri walked through the swishing door, reaching up once he was through and swping the sign above the door. It was an amusing joke, but if he left it up, some hardass was bound to see it and come to lodge a complaint to him about lassitude and disrespect.

He was barely ten paces down the hall in the direction of his quarters, when Phichit caught up to him with hurried steps. “Come to my quarters for drinks?” he asked.

“Now, now, are you sure you don't have somebody else you'd rather throw across your bed?” Yuuri teased.

“The list is so, so long, but my buddy comes first,” Phichit said with a wink. Joking about Phichit's nonexistent lovers stretched back to their pre-Acadmey days. When Phichit wasn't openly asexual yet, and Yuuri had to help him (sometimes literally) beat back suitors who came on too strong.

Back in Phichit's quarters, they tested four or five different kinds of wine. Yuuri was glad to keep Phichit occupied; a busy Phichit was a mischief-free Phichit. Mostly. Phichit regaled Yuuri with tales from the lifestory of an ensign who was still mourning a breakup with his girlfriend . . . fourteen months later. Phichit named no one, but Yuuri already knew the names anyway.

After Yuuri felt he had enough alcohol in his system to deal with more shenanigans from Viktor and Yuri, he thanked Phichit. and walked back to his room with only the slightest sway to his gait.

Yuri welcomed him with loud complaints about being left alone with a Vulcan for too long. Viktor smiled at Yuuri and check-mated Yuri.

Yuuri settled back into his chair and tried to ignore them as best he could. The wine made him feel far too warm and content to buckle down to work. 

Yuuri's eyelids drooped and he slid a little further down in his chair. The rhythmic sound of Viktor's and Yuri's voices—even while bickering—was a soothing lull when combined with drudgery stamped across a page.

“Katsuki!” Victor’s voice this time.

Yuuri did not want to open his eyes. He was halfway to the frontier of the mind, a dreamworld without other captains to make him nervous. Without the Federation to enforce such bendable rules. Without forces from other worlds to placate or subdue or both. A haven.

“Katsudon!” Yuri was speaking now. Mmmm, _katsudon_. Yuuri let the make-believe aroma of pork cutlet lull him further.

“Yuuri.” Viktor again. Always Viktor.

“Darling.”

Yuuri was too sleepy to object.

“Captain Tightpants?” 

Yuuri was almost asleep. Farewell space, hello sweet embrace of nothing . . .

“O Captain, my Captain?”

Yuuri sat up with such force, he nearly launched himself into the ceiling.

“Viktor!” he admonished. He was sure he'd already told Viktor (at least twice) to save quoting Walt Whitman for when Yuuri couldn't overhear. 

“Sir,” Viktor responded. Yuuri could have sworn Viktor winked, but his sleep-addled eyes weren't very reliable at the moment.

Yuuri glared at him and adjusted the hem of his golden yellow shirt, mentally praying that it hadn't wrinkled.

“Are you two done with your game? I'd like to retire now.”

“You've wanted to retire for five years,” Yuri scoffed.

Something in Yuuri snapped, and all he saw was red. Before he knew it, both Viktor and Yuri were scuttling quickly out the door. Yuuri was confused what made them leave _now_ , but was too irritable to care. He stripped to his underclothes and collapsed on his bed.

* * *

Chris leaned a hip against the wall outside the captain's quarters. He had a bet with Phichit about whether Viktor and Yuri would scram before Yuuri need to be physically dragged to his own bed, or after they'd bickered about tucking him in. Phichit had won with the tucking-in bet three nights in a row. Chris was _not_ amused. Also a little worried about Captain Katsuki overworking himself.

Abruptly, the door swished open, and the first officer and chief medical officer nearly tumbled in their haste to exit.

“Fuck, he's really stressed and tired,” said Yuri, glancing warily back at the door sliding shut.

Viktor's eyes were wide, like a thrill junkie reveling in the rush from taunting a great beast. “Finally, I thought he'd never get mad enough to kick us out. Chris, do you have any suggestions for helping relieve his tension?”

“None that he'll be okay with now,” said Chris, tugging playfully on one of his best friend's pointed ears. “It took him three years to realize you liked him, two to admit he liked you back, and you guys still haven't even _defined_ if you're in a relationship yet. You're going to have to let him set the pace, especially since he's still technically your boss. Even _I_ won't try to bed the captain, Viktor.”

Viktor shot Chris an imperious look. “I was _not_ talking about that kind of tension relief, and you know it.”

Chris smiled. “Keep telling yourself that, dear. Good night, stars and comets.” He waved and walked away, pulling out his communicator and muttering to Phichit, “It's a bust, hamster boy. _Mon Capitan_ got mad and kicked them out. Neither of us get paid tonight.”

“ _Both_ of them?” The static couldn't mask the hope in Phichit's tone.

“Yes. Even Dr. Grumplestiltskin was shaken up.”

“Awww, he's getting assertive again. I'm so proud. My baby! He really took a confidence hit last mission.”

Chris tried to block out the memory of Yuuri looking like his heart had shriveled in his chest and lodged in his throat. “Yeah. He did. Night, Phichit. I'm getting up early to work on the prototypes tomorrow.”

“Night, Chris.”

* * *

From the time Yuuri opened his eyes the next morning, he felt as if time accelerated and strange problems multiplied. Hiccups in the design of the updated quarantine suits, engine troubles, and status refreshers from Persepos X had Yuuri wound tighter than a drum. He would have blown off some steam at the officer's gym if he had time.

By some luck, or space magic, or divine pity, all problems had been smoothed out by his excellent staff by the time Persepos X loomed large before them. At his behest, Viktor, Chris, Yuri, Phichit, Guang-Hong, and Seung-Gil Lee awaited him in the transport chamber, each loaded down with supplies. Yuuri was a little blindsided by their quarantine suits. Strangely enough, Chris had listened to Yuuri's feedback about toning down the . . . eye-catching aspects of the first design and gone with plain, no-nonsense black without adornment, save for a screen in front of each of their faces

So why was Yuuri's quarantine outfit this anathema of black, mesh, and silver that looked more like it belonged in a pageant?

Before he could pose the question to Phichit or Chris, Otabek strode from behind the controls to take a little stroll around him. "Sir," he said to Yuuri. "Your suit is . . . different."

Ah, Otabek. He was even more well-versed in Vulcan understatements than Viktor.

"We made a few modifications to denote your rank as captain," Phichit supplied helpfully. 

Yuuri knew that voice. It was Phichit's Extra Angelic Voice. Even Chris was trying to look innocent (an impossible feat, but excellent effort). Viktor was silent, Guang-Hong looked apologetic, and Yuri just smirked at him and waved at Otabek.

Seung-Gil ignored everyone. Yuuri felt profoundly grateful to him.

"Well, gentlemen, let's depart," said Yuuri, scooping up his own box of medical supplies. The sooner they left, the less time there would be for butterflies to gather in Yuuri's stomach.

Otabek inclined his head, smoothed his red uniform, and returned to his post at the dashboard. Each of the other officers tapped their toes inside a designated ring.

"Beam us down, Otabek."

"Beaming down, sir."

Yuuri's fists clenched as the fizzy, prickling feeling of the transport beam enveloped him. He replayed key points to remember in his mind as his vision winked out, then returned in a flood. The wall of the giant medical facility -- more like a small town than a hospital -- loomed almost as high as the skyscrapers back in Tokyo on Earth. 

Persepos X had one government unifying the entire planet, made up of fifty delegates. There were three major power blocs the delegates fell into, plus a few stragglers who could tip the balance one way or another. At present, all delegates were in favor of Federation aid. Yuuri just hoped he could encourage them to stay in favor.

He looked around, content to see his personnel were unharmed. Transporter beams would never lose their ability to unnerve him. He cast his eyes about, noting there wasn't a speck of greenery or organic material around them. Finally, a door opened from the corner of the medical facility and spat out three women swathed head to toe in flowing pastel green robes.

"Captain Katsuki! First Officer Viktor! And gentlemen!" 

Yuuri was very relieved to know their translation devices were working splendidly.

The women rapidly nodded their heads in a greeting Yuuri knew was universal for Persepos X and its neighbors. Yuuri returned the gesture, and his men followed suit.

"Thank you for accepting our request for aid," said the woman in the center, her steel blue eyes assessing them carefully. "I am Dr. Gorin. Did you receive our latest transmission?"

Yuuri described how the last message reported that while there were no casualties, the infection seemed to be spreading even faster than projected. The woman nodded, then she and her companions led them into the building. They ushered them into a pod on a track. Each of them had to sit atop his box in order to fit. As the pod clacked its way to the center where their chief physicians were working with new patients, Dr. Gorin told them that an estimated 50% of the population was infected, with 30% in varying stages of nervous system malfunction. 

Yuri clucked his tongue, and Phichit eyed him warily. They really were going to have their work cut out for them.

Yuuri tried to quell the rising suspicion that his theories about zombies weren't quite so ridiculous.

By the time they reached the heart of the facility, Dr. Gorin had them updated on everything they needed to know going in. And Yuuri knew: the U. S. S. _Surprise_ didn't have enough supplies to deal with this situation.

"I believe we'll need to call for at least two other starships, Dr. Gorin," he said. "Persepos X's population is too high for us to keep up with demand, if indeed we are able to help you find and produce a cure."

Dr. Gorin's sleeve fluttered like a butterfly as she raised her head to massage her temple beneath her veil. "I was afraid you'd say that. So were the delegates." She let out a long sigh. "The closest Federation ship to us is ten days away."

"If I may," said Viktor, speaking for the first time through his black quarantine suit, "I do believe it is better to know we have backup arriving in ten days, than none at all."

"You are right," said Dr. Gorin. "We will send for them. There is . . . another source we could appeal to. But I am reluctant."

What was it with everybody around Yuuri making understatements lately? He missed his cue to gently ask her to elaborate. Guang-Hong picked up the slack for him. She smiled at the young pediatrician.

"Well," she said, and shot a meaningful glance at the woman on her left. "I'll let Dr. Bonma explain. She's better at this."

Dr. Bonma cleared her throat. She did not look Yuuri in the eye as she spoke, so it was hard for Yuuri to guess her eye color or get a bead on her character. "Well," she said, in the exact tone that Dr. Gorin had said it. "Two days away from us is a Veraxian ship. The Veraxians and the Perseposians are not on good terms at the moment. To be brutally honest, we have a long and complicated history. When our first cases of this disease surfaced, we refused their offered aid. It was rash and overconfident, and now even our most stubborn delegates have deeply regretted the decision."

Yuuri felt the veins on his forehead bulging in frustration.

"However," said Dr. Bonma, and finally she fixed her grey eyes directly on Yuuri, "they may be persuaded to forgive our oversight and help us, if you intercede on our behalf. Your skills as a negotiator is part of the reason why we hoped the _Surprise_ would be assigned to us, and it seems you are . . ." she trailed off and looked away from him again. "You are even better equipped to use your leverage than ever."

Yuuri wanted to cry. He wasn't a fabled negotiator, he really wasn't. Why did people keep making him an impossible legend to uphold? He just stubbornly endured social situations he hated, until everyone else in the room hated it as much as he did, and complied so they could all escape. He was just ridiculously stubborn. That was it.

"You flatter me," he said. "I will do my best to provide satisfaction."

He could have sworn Dr. Bonma turned red beneath her veil, but it was hard to tell. He looked back to Dr. Gorin. "Would you like us to record a message to the Veraxian vessel now?"

Dr. Gorin nodded, then patted the arm of the woman on her right. "Dr. Dalish has the best rapport with their captain, it would be best for the message to come from the both of you."

Chris, damn his nose for intrigue, piped up, "How came you to have a rapport with the Veraxian captain?"

Viktor and Phichit both shot him reproving looks. Dr. Dalish smiled at him, green eyes a similar shade to Yuri's. "Oh, he asked my sister on a date, and I threatened to throw a javelin through his hip."

"Now that is a good rapport, alright," said Yuri, smiling at Dr. Dalish in approval. Even Seung-Gil looked a little less indifferent toward her.

They clambered out of the pod, rushing through greetings with physicians, nurses, and even government officials helping with menial tasks for afflicted friends, family, and neighbors. Yuri promptly began ordering everyone around. Phichit and Guang-Hong and Seung-Gil hijacked workspace wherever there were pockets of free space.

Viktor was reluctant to leave Yuuri's side, but his expertise in biology was uncanny and could not be wasted. Yuuri had to practically shove his box of supplies in his face shoo him to join Phichit. Chris stayed hovering in the sidelines, as Yuuri stood beside Dr. Dalish before a screen almost the size of an ice skating rink back on Earth.

Dr. Dalish jabbed a few buttons to hail the Veraxian ship. The giant screen flashed bright green, then sharpened into an image of a man with a salt and pepper beard. His blue skin contrasted sharply with his silver military uniform.

"Captain Axo," said Dr. Dalish, performing the rapid nod greeting. "This is Dr. Libroi Dalish, speaking on behalf of my planet, my delegation, and my people. Please listen to our plea through our common ally, Captain Yuuri Katsuki of the Federation."

"Warmest greetings to both of you, Dr. Dalish, Captain Katsuki," said Captain Axo, also nodding. He looked wary, perhaps cautiously optimistic.

Yuuri nodded back. "Captain Axo, I have been informed of the whole scenario in which Persepos X finds herself. The Perseposians retract their early rebuttal of your aid. They would like you to make haste to offer support as soon as possible. I have seen the expanse of the disease's hold, and while we are working hard to find a cure, I worry we are woefully under-equipped."

"I am glad that Persepos X has seen fit to acknowledge our usefulness," said Captain Axo. "I would chasten you for your late acceptance, but it seems that is unnecessary."

Yuuri heard Dr. Dalish clenching her teeth.

"I accept your request. My ship will change course immediately, and we should arrive within two standard days. I wish you every success in advancing the cure in the meantime. Axo out."

Yuuri bowed before the screen went green, then blank once more. Dr. Dalish hissed through her teeth. "That was far too easy," she muttered. She shot a piercing look at Yuuri. "Have you had any dealings with him, or other Veraxian captains, in the past?"

"No Veraxian military. I did assist a refugee family once. But only a few members of my crew were aware of that."

"We'll have to look lively, then," said Dr. Dalish, spinning on her heel. Her robes and sleeves flowed and dipped like water in slow motion. "He's up to something, and I'm ninety-nine percent sure it has to do with you. Normally, I'd have had to do a lot more groveling."

Yuuri pinched the bridge of his nose. Dr. Dalish shot him a sympathetic look. "If it's any consolation, you're . . . you're a much better man, a better captain, than I took you for. I'm feeling a lot more optimistic about our chances now."

Yuuri thanked her with as much sincerity as he could muster. A fear of why the lady might have a lesser opinion of him before snaked in the back of his mind. He tried to ignore it. Right now, he had to make himself useful and steel himself for mental sparring with Captain Axo.

For the rest of that standard day and the next, Yuuri and his crew worked in shifts. They slept when necessary, but made sure either Yuri or Phichit or Viktor was awake and at work at all times. Yuuri felt a little spectacularly useless, but kept himself busy doing grunt work with the government officials. He talked with them as much as he could, to get a better grip on the pulse of Persepos X itself.

Soon Yuuri was due for his next six hours of sleep, and slipped away to find a quiet corner. Viktor followed him, fussing and rubbing his arms and shoulders, as if worried about Yuuri's circulation. Yuuri just smiled blearily up at him. Viktor had made fast friends with one of the brightest Perseposian scientists. Watching Viktor working with intense concentration had made Yuuri's insides swim. Viktor got this light in his eyes, like the secrets of the universe were singing parables for him to interpret, and then Yuuri was transfixed and doomed.

"I'm perfectly alright, Viktor," he said, rolling the _r_ because he was tired and he liked how it made Viktor struggle to keep a stoic expression. "Now go, I need my rest before Captain Axo shows up in ten hours."

"Um . . . Yuuri . . ."

That was Phichit's voice. Yuuri blinked and Phichit loomed into focus a few steps away from him and Viktor. "About Captain Axo," Phichit went on, gulping. "He's here. Here now, as in beaming down to join us. His ship arrived early. Dr. Dalish suspects his ship is equipped with either engine or fuel not approved for that vessel class."

Yuuri longed to run his fingers through his hair, but he couldn't. He couldn't do anything to relax, really. A very intimidating captain, whom he could _not_ afford to displease, was practically at his doorstep, and he was too tired to even think clearly. His vision began to darken and narrow, and his pulse and breathing sped up.

"Yuuri, Yuuri." Phichit was by his side now, shaking his shoulders. "Focus. Focus, Yuuri. Yuuri, I don't wanna say this, but I gotta. Overcome Chihoko!"

Yuuri's vision flared white, then cleared, and he jerked up to his full height once again. He looked to Phichit, hovering anxiously by his side. "Thanks, Phichit. Don't use that on me again, okay?"

"I'll try not to," said Phichit. "I make no promises. I'm sorry, but he's expecting you to meet him outside the building with the doctors. We can't go with you."

Yuuri nodded, clapped him on the back, and walked out to meet his doom and hope he wouldn't fall asleep partway through.

* * *

Viktor watched the man he adored stride out of the room. He longed to go with him. Something gave him a very bad feeling about this new development. It was not logical, or at least he could not apply a logical pattern to his intuition, as of yet. But his human instincts rarely failed him, and so he resolved to watch and wait. Yuuri, his darling Yuuri, needed him. It was very, very nice to be needed. Especially when Chris and Phichit dressed him so splendidly.

He pinned Phichit down with a critical eye and a raised brow. 

"Might I ask, what is Chihoko?"

**Author's Note:**

> -Hi, my nickname is Gothie, and even in crackfics, I write Yuuri in anxious word vomit mode.
> 
> -Apologies to all Serious Star Trek fans. I thought I was one of you . . . clearly I'm not.
> 
> -Yuuri is captain because I love the idea of him calling the shots. I do lament the missed opportunity to have Yurio wear gold, though.
> 
> -I tried to tell my muse to NOT cast Viktor in Spock’s role here, since Spock is neither impetuous nor extra nor flirty. (Unless Pon Farr or sex pollen is involved). My muse laughed in my face and told me where I could shove my logic. *shrugs*
> 
> -Otabek, however, IS THE PERFECT VULCAN and I'm in awe.
> 
> -Yurio has the WORST bedside manner ever, except if you’re a kid. This ends up working in his favor. Even the most stubborn crewmembers end up following his instructions to the letter, to minimize future visits to the infirmary.
> 
> -I don't even ship Kirk and Spock, so I have NO IDEA where all these captain/first officer shenanigan ship ideas came from.
> 
> -Am I projecting how my asexuality works onto Phichit? Um . . . yes.
> 
> -I was THIS close to lifting Yuuri's quarantine outfit from Britney Spears' orange jumpsuit in [Oops I Did It Again"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CduA0TULnow). But I went for Eros style instead. Chris is so, so disappointed.


End file.
